Follow The Leader
Former 'mad dog' Muammar Qadhafi is taking Libya in a surprising new direction
Despite signs of openness, few people dare to talk openly about Qadhafi. "Don't ask me about politics," says a shopkeeper in Tripoli's hardscrabble medina, or old city. Nervously, his eyes dart left and right. But a joke circulating among Libyans reveals despair: A team of American inspectors comes to search for weapons of mass destruction. They look everywhere, then report back to President Bush: "Mr. President," they say, "we couldn't find any weapons of mass destruction. But we did find plenty of mass destruction."
Though the changes in foreign policy and economics are breathtaking, this is still the colonel's Libya. It is evident that people here are uncomfortable even uttering his name; he is known instead as the Leader of the Revolution, or just the Leader. At 62, he has maintained a tight grip on power for nearly 35 years, and Libya's exit from pariah status could have come only on his say-so. "He is the prime mover of this, or at least he supports it," says Ghanem. "Without his support, of course . . ." Ghanem's voice trails off. He doesn't finish the thought.
Some foreign diplomats here worry that Qadhafi is still wavering and needs occasional bucking up by reformers like Ghanem, an economist educated at Tufts University in Massachusetts. Scorned by hard-line apparatchiks, including some close to the Leader's tent, Ghanem and his fellow technocrats are accused of undermining the revolution.
Ghanem, though, has a key ally in one of Qadhafi's sons, Saif al-Islam Qadhafi. Urbane and fluent in English, Saif, 31, is studying for a Ph.D. at the London School of Economics. While his father dons woolen brown robes, Saif prefers a well-tailored English suit. Widely presumed to be Qadhafi's heir apparent, he has surfaced at key junctures in Libya's fence mending: in energizing the London disarmament talks and in providing a legal mechanism for the Lockerbie settlement. His Qadhafi International Foundation for Charity Associations is the Libyan conduit for paying victims' families up to $2.7 billion. More than a year ago, he wrote an essay for the Middle East Policy Council disclosing "an accord on a secure intelligence channel" between Tripoli and Washington. He boasted about Libyan infiltration of terrorist groups and said that intelligence sharing with Washington had begun before September 11. Saif said that his father was the target of an attack in Sabha, a city in southern Libya, by Islamic militants linked to al Qaeda. He went on to say that Libya "recognizes America's special role as a superpower."
Yet for all the newfound pragmatism, there are no signs that the new era will mean an end to dictatorship. The Libyan elite seems to envision a Chinese-style evolution: Open up the economy, but hold on tight to political power. The conceit of the Libyan system is that it already offers "direct democracy" in which local "people's committees" make the basic decisions that form policy. Aside from colonel, Qadhafi holds no formal title in the Great Socialist People's Libyan Arab Jamahiriya. Loosely translated, "Jamahiriya" means "state of the masses." Explaining the Libyan system, Farhat, the university head, says, "We think this is the best form of democracy." Across town, Mohammed Jerary, director of the Libyan Jihad Center for Historical Studies, is also talking about democracy--broadly, in the Arab world. Educated at the University of Wisconsin, he says, "We want democracy--but with your assistance, not your force."
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